Sherlock's other half
by John-Fucking-Watson
Summary: John and Sherlock have been dating for a while now but when he asks to meet his family, Sherlock gets really defensive. Could there be something he's hiding from John? One shot. Established Johnlock. Ends on a cliffhanger. Bad summary.


It had been four and a half months since Sherlock had waltzed into his surgery and announced, without hesitation, "John, I have been thinking a lot about you recently, about the way your smile gives me butterflies and a simple brush of our shoulders makes me feel as if I'm melting. At first I thought I was unwell in some way, but I have Googled the symptoms and came to the conclusion that I am in love with you. I know you're in love with me, I deduced it some time ago as you make it rather painfully obvious. Therefore, I have decided we should take our relationship to the next step and begin a romantic one instead. Angelo's, eight o'clock. Don't be late."

And of course, John had obliged, how could he not? He was hesitant at first, as anyone would be if Sherlock Holmes - the world's only consulting detective, his best friend - had claimed his love for them like it was your normal, everyday thing. Was he just an experiment? Would Sherlock be a good partner to John? Would John be a good partner to Sherlock? Yes, he was Definatley hesitant. But eventually, he decided to go, and they'd been 'boyfriends' ever since.

And now, Sherlock was conducting yet another experiment. John didn't mind it, it gave him time to ogle him without being propositioned. Well, sometimes it did.

"John? Why are you looking at me like that? JOHN?" He was brought back into reality by Sherlock yelling in his face. "JOHN?"

"Oh, sorry, I was staring again wasn't I?"

"Yes, dear, yes you were."

"Ah, sorry. Um, Sherlock, I was thinking," he fidgeted a bit, "you know, maybe I could meet your family or somethi-"

"You've met Mycroft." Sherlock backed away a bit, John could almost see a sheild being formed around him. He always got touchy when he brought this up.

"Yeah, I know, but you have other family and we've been dating for a while now. I'd really like to meet the rest."

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't want to talk about it." The taller man moved away from John and in one swift movement was back at his equipment, an eye full of microscope.

"No, Sherlock, I want to meet your family."

"WELL I DON'T WANT YOU TO MEET THEM!"

"Sherlock, please. Please, Sherlock. I want to meet my boyfriend's family, why won't you give me that one thing?"

Silence. Sherlock was ignoring him now. _God, he always does this. Everytime I ask anything of him, I get shut out._ John thought to himself.

"Fine. I'll go to Mycroft. Do you want that?"

Sherlock's eyes shot up, closely followed by his head, "you wouldn't." His eyes narrowed into thin slits, ripping through to John's core, he had to look away.

"Oh, I would." A smirk was formed on John's lips.

Sherlock huffed and pushed himself up, away from his experiment. He sauntered off into the other room.

"Oh, fine. I'll ring mummy."

* * *

><p>A car pulled up outside 221B Baker Street and Sherlock hastily climbed into it, dreading the what lay at the end of the journey. He looked up at the building he'd come to view as his home, his warm, comforting home he shared with his first and last love. Oh, how he wished he could stay.<p>

"John! Get down here! If you're going to make me attend this trip, at least don't make me late!" Sherlock yelled up to his lover. He really, really did not want to see his family for five minutes, never mind a week. But he'd do it, for John. Damn John. He fidgeted around for a while, irritatedly looking at his watch every few seconds. "For gods sake, JOHN!"

"Okay, okay!" He heard as John rushed out of the door, two suitcases and a small bag in tow. "You could of carried your own case at least!" He said as he pushed the cases and the bag into the boot of the car - Mycrofts car, of course - and slipped in next to Sherlock.

"What's in the bag?"

"Never you mind, Mr. Holmes." Sherlock found himself being kissed lightly on the lips as the driver slowly pulled away from Baker street. Their lips were a perfect fit and the great detective had somehow forgotten to be angry at John. They pulled away but remained close to eachother, Sherlock could feel the warmth radiating from his doctor. "Sherlock, where are we going, anyway?"

"Scotland."

"Scotland- wait, what? Scotland? I didn't know you were Scottish." Sherlock was taken aback by John's suprise.

"Yes, well, you never asked. If you must know, I was born in Switzerland."

"Oh, right. That's good, there are still things we don't know about eachother. That's nice." He laughed into Sherlock's ear, the high-pitched suprise fading into his regular, masculine voice.

"Mhm'" Sherlock looked up into John's warm eyes. "Are you comfortable? It's going to be a long journey."

Upon arrival, Sherlock and John were greeted by a man - a butler - dressed in what can only be described as a penguin suit. "Master Sherlock." He said in a deep baritone, nodding. "Doctor Watson."

"Master John." Sherlock interrupted. "I do believe John is part of the family now. You may address him as Master John, Jeeves."

"Yes, Master Sherlock, of course. How careless of me."

Sherlock and John were lead into the large house, hand in hand, Jeeves carrying their suitcases. "You're rich then?" Sherlock heard a voice whisper beside him as they entered the house, even Sherlock himself was impressed by it, and he grew up here.

"Yes."

"Oh."

A woman appeared in a doorway to their left, Sherlock shifted lightly, clearly uncomfortable. He gave John's hand a nervous squeeze then cleared his throat. "Mummy."

The woman marched over and gave him an awkward hug. "Sherlock." She then turned to John with a look of clear distaste plastered onto her face, "Mr. Watson. You must be Sherlock's friend." She had a thick Scottish accent, unlike Sherlock and Mycroft. Sherlock cleared his throat for a second time.

"John, mummy, his name is John." He moved his hand from John's embrace and placed it around his hip, "and he's my boyfriend… You can say it."

Dead silence, it seemed to be a family thing. She turned on her heel and exited the hallway where Sherlock and John stood, completely gobsmacked by Ms. Holmes' behaviour.

"If you'll follow me, I will show you to your room, Master Sherlock."

Jeeves spoke, Sherlock had forgotten he was there.

It was John's turn to speek, "uh- yes, of course. Let's go, Sherlock."

* * *

><p>They made their way to their room and thanked Jeeves for his trouble as he left, John was pretty taken aback by what had just happened. Maybe this was why Sherlock had so badly wanted John not to meet his family.<p>

"I'm ever so sorry, John. She's old. You know how it was back then. She'll come around."

"No, it's fine. I'm just glad to be here." He pulled Sherlock in by his waist, reached up and planted a soft, wet kiss on his lips then pulled away, arms still sitting comfortably around his hips. "Is that why you didn't want me to come here? Because your Mother's a bit set in her ways?" John felt Sherlock flinch underneath him.

"No, it's not that. It's - it's nothing."

John wasn't convinced, but if the genius didn't want to tell him, he couldn't make him. He'd already forced him here in the first place, Sherlock would probably lose his mind. So, instead of prying, he just pulled him back in for a second kiss, one hand sliding down and resting on his firm buttock. John heard an involuntary moan creep from Sherlock's mouth. He licked his bottom lip as if askng permission, which was granted immediately. He deepened the kiss by slipping his tongue into Sherlock's mouth, exploring it like it was unfamiliar, although it was a regular occurance these days.

They were interrupted by the creek of the door and a deep cough. John looked up to a dark, handsome man. He had deep brunette hair and pale skin. His sunken eyes showed no emotion and the look on his face was un readable. John most certainly recognised this man. He hated him, loathed him. Anger seeped through John's veins. How dare he come here? How dare he ruin his time with Sherlock's family?

"Hello, James. How nice of you to call in on us."

"I live here, Sherlock. You seem to forget that key factor."

To say John was confused was an understatement. "Wait, what? Am I missing something?" He pulled away from Sherlock and looked at him, then Moriarty, then Sherlock again, "Well?"

"Oh, Sherly, didn't you tell your little pet here? You see, Johnny boy, I live here because I've always lived here. I live here because of the very same Sherlock lived here. Family. We're family, John. Brothers, to be precise."

"Brothers?"

"Brothers."


End file.
